Uryuu
by Lenkish
Summary: Servant Caster killed himself to destroy the grail. He failed to save ***'s smile. With a shattered mind, a body made of swords, and the fourth heaven's feel, he aims to correct that failure.
1. Chapter One

Ryuunosuke Uryuu was a lot of things. A self-proclaimed artist, a son, a layabout, an older brother. A sociopath, a fratricide, a serial killer, a hobbyist in the realm of the supernatural, a descendent of an extinct line of magus. Ryuunosuke was all of this and more. It was the latter half of his character however that was significant for what was to come.  
He was surrounded by still warm corpses and blood. The only survivor, a small boy, bound and gagged in the corner, starred unerringly at Ryuunosuke with unadulterated terror in his eyes. In the background a newscaster was somberly describing the many other similar murders the police had discovered in recent days. Despite the grizzly scene and oppressive atmosphere Ryuunosuke wasn't phased in the slightest. Quiet the opposite in fact, the sight of all this blood was energizing him; making him feel more alive than ever before.

Killing had become stale for Ryuunosuke as of late. Sure using his good looks to lure unsuspecting young women to their doom was fun and all, but it lacked pizazz. And it was easy. Too easy in fact. Ryuunosuke could feel his tightly honed skills slipping. So he had decided to return to his roots.

After visiting his little half sister, who hadn't aged a day since he murdered her five years ago, he decided to go rut around his parent's house looking for inspiration. He half-remembered some interesting occult memorabilia that had been in his family for generations. He found an old box full of musty tomes in the outbuilding. Most of the books looked boring, but there was one musty old tome that really caught his eye. A collection of occult rituals to perform.

One in particular drew the psychopath's interest. A summoning ritual. It was supposed to summon... something. The page that would have explained the purpose and result of the ritual was inconveniently missing. But if he had to guess what would be summoned, it was probably demons. Definitely demons. If it didn't summon demons why would it need to be inscribed in blood?

At any rate Ryuunosuke took this as an inspiration. Before he had killed isolated victims, carefully disposing of the bodies and hiding all the evidence. Now he slaughtered families. He slaughtered families and used their bodies to perform the various rituals detailed in the book. So far none had borne fruit, but that would never stop someone like Ryuunosuke. Even if he tried and failed another twenty times, this ritualistic murder had revived in him something he had lost performing the same acts of torture and death he had before.

He was having fun! More fun than he had had in ages in fact. Capturing and killing off groups of people was so much harder than individuals. But the increased risk had justified itself with the splendid reward. Though each attempt had failed so far, the process was pure bliss for Ryuunosuke. Each different ritual had it's own special process and quark that showed Ryuunosuke a new, more heinous, way the human body can be mutilated. Using limbs to form pentagons. Stretching out skin to make a drum. Forcing the eldest child to drink his parent's blood before ritualistically slitting his throat. The possibilities and variations were endless!

And then, after regaining his confidence, he was ready to try the spell that first drew his attention. He very carefully selected his target. He wanted it to be special. It took a lot of work but he had finally found it. A mother, pregnant or recently gave birth to a third child, who had her first child out of wed-lock then married a different man. A little girl had to be the second child and the first legitimate one. This was non-negotiable. He actually found a family that perfectly fit his requirements in Miyama town save the gender of the middle child. He had moved on. This family he had found in the developing residential district of Shinto was perfect.

The age gap between the bastard and the legitimate child was smaller than he would have liked, but it was acceptable. Getting the poor kid to kill his little sister? That had been hard. But worth it in the end. Demon's like things like fratricide right? A little bit of Abel's blood would probably help. Wouldn't hurt at least. He had done the parents himself, the little quivering mess of a boy tied up in the corner couldn't have even lifted the knife to do the deed anymore. It was for the best that way. What good is a totally spent offering?

The killings had left an awful mess all over the living room. Ryuunosuke had to clear some space to work. He dragged the bodies out of the way and arranged them as if in every day life. He would have an audience! Step-Dad was busy watching TV, he had never taken that much of an interest in his wife's first child. Mom was watching though. Keeping her balanced in the chair with that massive bulge in her stomach was quite a chore.

Using his big toe as a brush, Ryuunosuke crafted a circle exactly as the book prescribed. Well not exactly. He was an artist. He had to sign and title his work didn't he? With a little prick to his index finger Ryuunosuke readied his quill. With a quick flourish and a small grimace Ryuunosuke titled his work; "My Family". Not the most creative name, but simplicity has it's merits.

Circle drawn in blood? Check. Catalyst? Ryuunosuke had no idea what that meant! Check, maybe, hopefully! Offering to sate the hungry demon he was about to summon? Check! All the preparations were complete. He could finally begin the ceremony. He was just a silly little chant away from the opportunity of a lifetime.  
"Fill, fill, filling, fill 'er up. Was it four or five times?"  
He was just too excited! Focusing was impossible. It's just a ritual to get a demon's attention though, so accuracy can't be that important. If he gets a little wrong here and there he'll just miss right? Instead of a super awesome amazing demon, he'll just summon a super awesome demon.

He was so excited! He needed an outlet. Instead of focusing on the ritual before him he started to tell his little counterpart in the corner all about himself. His crimes, what he intended to do, and about demons. Of course about demons! They were so cool. And the kid was going to be lunch for one in about ten minutes. It was important he was properly informed.  
"I wonder what it's like, to be killed by a demon. Will it go zip or splash? That's gotta be some fun to watch. Not something you see everyday – ah ouch!"  
A burning sensation on the back of his right hand interrupted his musing. A bright red tattoo was inscribed into his hand. Three intertwining snakes. That's what it looked like. They were his signs of participation in a great war. Not that he knew. He just thought it hurt and looked really cool.

The Great Holy Grail had been trying to fill the last slot in the Fourth Heaven's Feel Ritual for quite some time. No magus had done anything that could be inferred as a declaration of intention to become a master. Actually, that wasn't completely true. There had been a couple of magus that upon hearing about the ritual had thought it would be a great way to reach the Akashic Root. That was boring though. That Tohsaka guy entered the war with that intention already. Destroying that wish once would be satisfying enough. Something new, something vicious, something awful. That's what the spirit in the Grail wanted. It had finally found the perfect match in a madman, twenty dormant magic circuits, and a botched summoning ritual.

An impossible whirlwind started in the room. Swirling so fast, the air seemed to glow from the sheer amount of energy. The pain in his hand temporarily forgotten, Ryuunosuke had to brace himself lest he be swept off his feet. The air was hot. Any hotter and Ryuunosuke's clothes might have combusted. The circle Ryuunosuke had inscribed instantly finished drying, and then started glowing with a deep unearthly red. The tempo of the wind and the pulsating of the circle reached a peak. And then, an overwhelmingly bright flash.

Blinking the spots out of his eyes, Ryuunosuke could feel that someone new had come into the room. Standing in the center of the ritual circle was what appeared to be an average Japanese boy. Instead of a demon he summoned a normal person. Well, he could work with that, maybe demons just look normal?  
The illusion of normalcy was quickly shattered when his eyes finished adjusting. The first odd feature he noticed were the arms; one was noticeably longer than the other and wrapped in some sort of fancy red cloth. That detail didn't really matter once Ryuunosuke's eyes could take in details beyond the silhouette. His body seemed to be made out of swords. His shirt was perforated all over, with blades poking out of the holes. Entire swords seemed to be skewering him from the inside out. Instead of smooth skin half of the boy's face seemed be made of a fine metal weave. Even his eyes were affected, with one being a natural deep golden brown and the other seemingly made of pure steel.

A mop of red hair topped the inhuman beings appearance. Looking past the steel distorting his features, the boy almost looked familiar to the murderer. A mix of Ryuunosuke's mother and step-father. That's what he looked like. He had his mother's eyes and traces of his step-father's bone structure. It was like a long lost sibling Ryuunosuke never knew existed.

Everything else paled in comparison to the sense of accomplishment Ryuunosuke felt. He had done it! After countless failures a ritual he performed actually worked! And it even did what he wanted it to. The boy in front of him had to be a demon. His appearance was so otherworldly there was no other possible explanation for him. Blades coming out at random, skin replaced by knitted swords? Couldn't possibly be human. The familiar mundane aspects of the appearance were obviously a reward for all the hard work Ryuunosuke had put into crafting the scene. Recreating his own familial experience was the best idea he had ever had! The shock and satisfaction of everything that had just occurred in the last minute struck Ryuunosuke like a ton of bricks and he was forced into an overwhelmed stupor.

With a voice more akin to gears grinding together than any sound a human could make the demonic boy broke the silence.  
"I, Servant Caster have answered your call, I ask of you..." the boy paused as his surroundings finally registered. Corpses arranged as if in everyday life, a hostage in the corner, and his summoner seemingly the responsible party; Caster's voice, shaky with confusion brought form to what was plaguing him."What.. what is this?"

**Break**

He remembered. He remembered very little. But he remembered. The smiling face of haggard man who looked the happiest a person could be. A girl with purple hair and a bright red ribbon with a smile just for him. The extraordinary power his misshapen left arm unlocked within him. He remembered that he wanted to be a hero. That was important. It was who he was. The only part of his identity that hadn't been shredded by cold steel.

He had killed. First ****, an unforgivable betrayal. Then Kirei Kotomine, but that was a matter of course and an inevitable outcome of their meeting. He used a last projection. It shattered what was left of his mind and took his life. But he projected ******. He destroyed the ***** and saved **** along with the world. There should be no more Holy Grail Wars. So, how was he here?

He understood the mechanics. The depraved lunatic before him had summoned him and he was bound to his master's will. The runes on the man's wrist were proof enough of that. He had been granted life once again to do battle with other heroes from across time in order to win a cup. A cup full of **********.

Hadn't he already rejected it? Wasn't that why he had died in the first place? He wasn't even a hero. He had departed from that path for the sake of ****. So, why was he here?

Setting aside the matters of why and how, Caster decided to tackle the matter of what. His master had very obviously been the cause of death for the numerous corpses that littered the scene before him. Without **** to protect, Caster defaulted to the only other mindset he had ever known. That of an aspiring Hero of Justice. Trying to be like his idol, ***. The man before him was a monster, comparable only to Kotomine or ****. Heroes kill monsters. His course of action was clear.

He didn't want to act rashly however. There may be extenuating circumstances that lead up to this event. The redhead could very well be innocent in all of this, summoning a servant in an act of desperation while the real killer was absent for protection. When he summoned his own servant things hadn't been much different. He could still remember how desperate he was, how pointless his death was going to be when suddenly she appeared looking... Static. The rest of the memory was static.

"Master, what is this?" He asked once again. The confusion and horror that laced his voice before was gone. In it's place was cold steel. The clanging of his vocal chords seemed to snap his master out of the reverie he has fallen in after the summoning.

"You are... you're a demon! This is soooooo cooooooool! You must be disappointed that I killed all of these other people before you got the chance. But look! I left you that kid in the corner. So go ahead! Eat up!" With each passing word his Master's enthusiasm seemed to increase, and Caster's mood became more sour. "I'm Ryuunosuke Uryuu. I like to kill people. Women and children are my specialty. Lately I've been trying to get back to my roots. I wanted to do something extra special when I asked you here, so I took out this family for you! I'm sure you're tired having come all this way."

While Ryuunosuke had been babbling Caster had started to act. His joints seemed to be much less stiff than he remembered. When he had been fighting that fake priest his body barely moved, with all the flexibility of steel. Now he felt like a well oiled machine; still more metal than man, but better and stronger for it. It occurred to him, as he closed in on the boy in the corner, that he could remember a name. Just one name. It was the name of his adversary; of the man most like him in this world. Kotomine Kirei. He would dwell on this discovery later, for now there was a life to be saved.

"We should get all this boring talk done over a drink wouldn't you say? So go ahead drink... what are you doing Mr. Demon?"

Having made it across the room, Caster used the blades protruding from his body to gently slice apart the ropes binding the child. The boy looked up at his savior with a mixture of pure terror and unbridled relief. But, the shell shocked boy wouldn't move. How could he move after what he'd done?

Caster gently lifted him to his feet and urged him out of the room. The boy still wouldn't move. A soft shove was enough to finally get the kid moving. Miraculously, the boy was never cut by the monster that saved him. The man made of swords watched as the boy left the horrid scene with a small serene smile on his face. No words were exchanged between the child and his rescuer. None were needed.

Ryuunosuke stared at the "demon", completely dumbfounded. This monster was supposed to teach him more about killing! He looked like a demon, he sounded like a demon, so why the hell wasn't he acting like one? He seemed to be completely ignoring the man who summoned him, and he even released that kid. Ryuunosuke thought that maybe he was going to do something dramatic as the kid exited. But, no. The kid got away scott free!

After the child had left the man continued to stare wistfully at the exit after him. Eventually he turned and faced Ryuunosuke. "Master, have you done this sort of thing before?" He asked, the smile from a moment before gone.

"Yeah, tons of times." Ryuunosuke scratched the back of his head as he answered hesitantly.

"Are you planning on doing this again, Master?" his voice was gradually gaining an edge to match his appearance.

"Well yeah, it's my hobby, what else would I do with my time? Say, why do you keep calling me master?" Ryuunosuke seemed oblivious to his own peril. His enthusiasm was recovering from the damper the child's escape put on it. The demon seemed genuinely interested in his hobby!

Caster would be jeopardizing his ability to destroy the grail by killing his master. If he disappeared he couldn't save ***. But... didn't he already do that? No. If he had, Caster would not exist anymore. His sole purpose was to make sure **** could keep on smiling. If he had completed his task that would be true wouldn't it? Of course. And completing his task would kill him. He was alive which meant that he hadn't completed his task. **** still had to be saved. He still had to destroy the grail. That was why Caster existed.

His left arm would definitely keep him around for a while. Long enough to make a new contract at any rate. While having been assigned to the Caster class; certain elements of the Archer class servant who donated the arm were attributed to the spirit in the container. The result was a servant of the Caster class in name only. The ability to act independently of one's master was transferred to the new servant. He would just have to find a new master within the next day or so.

"That's not important right now, Master. What is important is that you are beyond saving. If I let you go, you will kill again. That is not acceptable. A hero wouldn't... no. A hero couldn't let you go. I have to stop you here." Caster pronounced his master's sentence. He knew it must be done. But not being able to save someone hurt.

This man could not be saved, that was perfectly clear. He isn't like ****. He isn't the victim here. He is a monster, a murderer. He stands in the way of Caster's dream. This is nothing he hasn't done before. When he killed **** he didn't hesitate, she stood in his way and he took her down. This man isn't like her, he didn't care for this man. He never promised this man anything. Caster won't ever regret this man's death. He would regret the man's continued life.

His body is already covered in blades, there is no need to project one for something so simple as murder. If the man before him was truly a magus he might be wary, but all evidence pointed towards nothing more than a psychopath with a magic circle. The length of his right arm, from his elbow to his pinky, was a sheer edge. This would suffice for an execution. He lifted his arm, his intent very clear to the mass murderer before him. All doubt had left him. His mind had long since turned to steel to complete his life's final task. He had become **** **** if only for this one act of justice.

Ryuunosuke's waxing enthusiasm was driven to the ground by his servant's declaration He himself had given off murderous intent enough for him to recognize it when it was barring down on him like a freight-train. But he still had so much to do! He hadn't found that vibrant shade yet! The demon was supposed to help with his designs, not stop them! He couldn't let it end here, there was so much unfinished! The demon must have been unhappy with the offering. That must be it, maybe if he just offered something different... "Wait Mr. Demon! You haven't even show me anything yet! If you wanted to eat an adult instead of a kid I can go get you one! Just please, don't stop me yet!"

Whatever further plea his master was about to muster was lost on Caster. An irresistible impulse stopped his arm cold less than five inches from his master's throat. The more he fought the command, the weaker he became. Despite that, Caster continued to resist. His arm moved forward another inch, then another half an inch. He was so close dammit!

His master's babbling had turned to gibberish as soon as the command seal had gone into effect. It was definitely a command seal. Caster had no doubt about that. A command seal is at it's strongest with a direct command, and that was what exactly what his master had issued. Very few Heroic Spirits could ever overcome a direct order like that. Caster was no Hero, he knew this beyond the shadow of any doubt. He never had a chance at victory here. But that didn't matter.

The fact that the neck he was trying to slice had moved out of the way was irrelevant to Caster as well. He HAD to finish the cut. A herculean effort moved the blade forward another quarter of an inch. Caster's will was failing. He couldn't muster any more forward movement at all. It took everything he had to keep the blade holding steady.

Slowly, agonizingly so, the ground he had gained since the command was first issued was lost. Then his arm started to lower itself. A few centimeters at first. Then an inch. Then another. The pain from the countless blades erupting from his body didn't register to Caster. His master gawking at the bestial display was less than a footnote. All that mattered was finishing the cut!

His arm was completely lowered at this point, and his body was beginning to make it's way to the entrance. His shirt, torn and ruined before, had been reduced to several disconnected strips of fabric. The torso revealed below was nearly pure steel. Still, Caster's brow was knit in determination. The slow trot towards the exit was rapidly becoming a swift exit. Summoning what little remained of his constitution, Caster was able to pause at the threshold and take a final look back at his master. The pure unadulterated contempt in those eyes was the only human aspect left of the monster Ryuunosuke had summoned.

With that last effort, the servant had completely exhausted himself. His consciousness faded away while his body pulled him away from the scene. There would be a reckoning. Of that, both parties had no doubt.

**Author's Note**:

So yeah. This was that. I've had this idea stuck in my head for about sixth months now and finally got around to putting ink to idea. It occurred to me that Shirou and Ryuunosuke both having such a rare hair color, hidden magical potential, and hailing from the same relatively small city was just too coincidental. So in my head canon, Shirou was born an Uryuu. It also occurred to me that Heaven's Feel Normal Shirou had all kinds of unfinished business. If anyone were to become a wraith it would be him. When I put those two together everything that you see here was the result. The alterations to canon Ryuunosuke and the summoning should be pretty obvious to anyone who read the novel, and I just want to say that it was all intentional and I constantly referred back to the text to minimize any mistakes. I hope that you don't tar and feather me.

This was more or less a preview of a what's to come. I haven't finished my full outline yet and there are still a couple of plot points I need to resolve before I can start working on this in earnest. I just wanted to put this out there to test the waters so to speak and get some feedback on my writing and whether this little idea of mine has merit. I'm a bit of a whore like that. Expect chapter two... at some point. I rated it M because I'm scurred of moderation. Even though I don't think anything I mentioned was graphic, I have had it demonstrated to me time and time again that my idea of acceptable isn't really in line with most people's.

This is my first time writing anything other than non-fiction since before I could grow facial hair. I have no doubt that is very evident. I'm sure my characterization was awful as sin and my dialogue, as little of it as there was, was painful to read. Bear with me. Or harshly criticize me. I would appreciate either. This was unbeta'd, mostly because of lazy but at least partially because of nervousness.

I have all sorts of awesome plans for this. After the dock scene it should be a complete departure from canon, with only two events I have planned being derivative of the original work. Shirou is going to be a badass, but so is everyone else. Especially loli!Rin and loli!Sakura. I'm super excited to get it all on paper and I hope at least like, three other people are too.


	2. Chapter Two

Ryuunosuke Uryuu was a boy with peculiar tastes. Most boys his age were into girls, sports, academics, or the occasional other slightly less mundane preoccupation.

He pursued all of those just as much as the next adolescent. But it was the method of the pursuit that made him so peculiar. He would indulge himself. That was the most apt way to describe it.

He would enjoy everything he did to the utmost, derive as much excitement and joy as he could and then move on. Never staying on in one field for very long. He was a star athlete one month and the school playboy the next. It seemed like the world would soon run out of things to hold the boy's interest.

His peers would always pester him whenever he abandoned his most recent hobby. He was always at least decent at it, and he always seemed to have so much more fun than anyone else. He would simply say that he didn't think it was cool enough. He would then move on to the next thing he thought might be cool in an endless succession.

Until he saw death.

He was walking home one night from a part-time job he took for extra money and a change of pace. Two men were having a very heated argument in an alley behind a local bar. It turned physical. One man pulled a knife, the other pulled a gun. It was over in a heartbeat.

The boy rushed over to lend assistance after calling for help. It was too late. The bullet had nicked an artery and punctured a lung. It was only a matter of minutes before death would claim him. The man seemed confused that he was dying, as if it could never happen to him. He tried to cry out in denial, but all he managed to do was gurgle some blood and further aggravate his perforated lung. His last breath marked his passive, seen only by the boy who tried to help him.

It was the most beautiful thing Ryuunosuke had ever seen. He was held in rapture at the sight that lay before him. The light going out of the eyes, the way the blood pooled, watching a human body slowly shut down. And the colors! The blood in particular was the most vibrant shade of red he had ever seen. Everything was incredible. It was divine. It was art.

When the paramedics finally arrived they had to forcefully separate the boy from the scene. They thought it was shock, being so young and witnessing a murder. His step-father eventually arrived and drove the boy home. Uncharacteristically, he attempted to comfort the boy. But, much like the paramedics, he didn't get any real response.

His thoughts were too jumbled to care about the world around him. He had found something! A true calling in life. Death.

After that night Ryuunosuke decided he would try to recapture that feeling. Another corpse. He had to see the creation of something so perfect once more. But he didn't know how he was going to do it.

Observing an execution was out, the current minister's de facto moratorium on executions put a stopper on that, not to even mention the issues of finding his way in as a witness. Killing someone with his own hands? He might get caught, which wouldn't be very fun and would stop him from really exploring this cool new path he had found. Goading some dunderheaded street thugs into a deadly situation? That was the ticket! How hard would it be for a clever young-man such as himself to trick some drugged out criminals to do something suicidal?

It was a lot harder than Ryuunosuke thought. The closest he got was when he tricked a bunch of dumb thugs into kidnapping a Yakuza princess. Not that they knew she was Yakuza, they just thought she was some rich heiress.

He set-up shop to observe, not far from the area they had planned to nab the girl. He was able to watch as those thugs both failed to have the deadly stand-off with the Yakuza he wanted so badly to see, and totally fail to kidnap the target. They approached the target all at once without a single ounce of subtlety, and when the young girl started to feel threatened she reacted. Seemingly out of nowhere she produced a shinai. The three men never stood a chance. Displaying her skills as a Kendo prodigy, she was able to take down the three grown men with ease, the tiger strap on her sword gently swaying as if to mock them all the while.

Shortly after the embarrassing scene, some of Fujimura's men showed up. They took Ryuunosuke's conscripted thugs and brutally murdered them in a secluded location. That was the price for trying to lay hands on the beloved Rising Tiger of Fuyuki. He didn't get to see any of what happened after the little girl triumphed over the grown men. The fact that he was still alive several days later meant that the thugs never had a chance to implicate him.

He needed a new plan. His attempts at indirectly engineering a murder scene just weren't working. He would have to do it himself. Getting caught while taking his target and working on them was his biggest concern. He would need someone who trusted him. Someone who would be easy to take to a private place. Someone like his little sister...

When he awoke, Servant Caster found himself lying in the middle of a yard. He sat up and groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then took stock of his situation. The sun was just about to set. His magical energy was dangerously low. He was in spiritual form, so he had gone unnoticed by lay folk while he slept. Being spotted would be bad. He knew that much from his life, and the Grail's supplemental information just helped to drive that point home. But, what was he doing in front of a slide and what had weakened him so much?

He had been summoned. That was it. He and his master were very poorly suited for one another. They had an argument. He wanted his master to die and his master disagreed. Then a command seal was used. He had fought it with all of his might but... he was nowhere near strong enough to oppose a mystery of that power. He had blacked out from the exertion.

Then that dream. It wasn't very pleasant. He half-remembered something that... a flash of twin-tails crosses his mind, had told him about Masters and Servants sharing memories through their bond. If this was what that monster who called him forth was like, then he had been right in his conviction that his master was beyond redemption. It was that last bit especially... why did hurting a little sister cut so deep?

His subconscious must have carried him to someplace it though was out-of-the-way, where he wouldn't be noticed. Command seals were very powerful. Being able to force an unconscious body to move, yet be discrete about those movements was simple in comparison to some of their esoteric uses.

But where had it brought him? He seemed to be in the middle of a busy residential district. He didn't recognize it. He knew he was in Fuyuki, but he didn't know when. When he tried to access that information his mind started to blank out. He needed to get his bearings.

He ghosted to the roof of the house he had awoken behind. As he initially surmised he was in a bustling residential district. A couple of blocks away he could see a community center being constructed. This area must have been undergoing a lot of development lately. Looking a bit further he saw what was unmistakably the Shinto business district; but it's appearance froze his thoughts in their tracks.

There should be more. He recognized all of the buildings except one. But the sheer number of missing buildings confused him immeasurably. There should be more. So many more. Shinto had a fantastic skyline. Not at all comparable to that of Tokyo or Beijing, but still fairly well-developed for the type of city Fuyuki was.

The angle and perspective of what he was seeing lead to a very perturbing conclusion. He knew now exactly where he was, but it wasn't possible. There should be a park here. There should be a taint here. This area was totally unsuitable for human life. Evil. The ground should be evil. Cursed. Cursed beyond redemption. **** **** was its name, but why wasn't it here? There was nothing in this world short of a true miracle that could remove that taint. The passage of time could lessen its effect, but it would still be inhospitable to life.

He knew he was in the right place. Looking around, he was able to see the bridge connecting Miyama and Shinto in the distance. The hill that the Kotomine Church was situated on was clearly visible. With those three landmarks, there was absolutely no mistaking where he was. This was where he was born. This is where he was saved. He had been here countless times since then. Despite his shaky memories he knew this for an irrefutable fact.

Caster could only think of two possibilities to explain the lacking skyline. The first was that sometime after his death a terrible cataclysm tore through Fuyuki. Not a strong explanation; the sheer number of buildings and landmarks he recognized probably wouldn't have survived an event strong enough to wipe out the familiar skyline. The second was totally nonsensical; maybe he had gone back in time to before the fire. That seemed incredibly silly. The past was already done, there was no going back. Going back would be an unforgivable sin, a disregard for the sacrifice and pain of others. It was not something a hero would do. It wasn't something he could do.

Something in Caster told him that yes, traveling back in time as a servant was possible. A portion of his existence hinged on that being true. A man in red and black, asking him if he could keep up. A spiritual surgery that logically should have failed but didn't. A person who's magic, origin, element, and soul were nearly identical. Whatever it was told him that the existence underlying servant caster had done it before, and would inevitably do it again.

He disregarded all that evidence. If that being was really what he thought it was... it would be too sad. Things that sad couldn't exist in a sane universe, and he certainty couldn't follow in the footsteps of something so tragic. A hero triumphed over adversity; never succumbing to it. Servant Caster couldn't succumb to something that sad. He hadn't fulfilled his purpose yet. Even if his mind was destroyed and his body was ruined, he would still try and push on to save her. Even if he succeeded in saving her life, he would still carry on as a machine to save her smile. That was the basis for his existence. He couldn't deny it anymore than a fish could stop swimming.

Shaking his head, Servant Caster moved out of the realm of the hypothetical and decided to take stock of the situation. It was grim. He was in a grail war, and he was weak. Even at full power he would be weak compared to the servants he had seen in his own war. Not that he remembered any of them clearly. A red lance that stabbed him, an axe-sword that gutted him, a dagger that broke contracts, a pair of nails that were a bridle, and a pair of Chinese dao. These were what he remembered from his grail war, not the wielders of those weapons. Conspicuously absent was the servant of the blade. His mind threatened to shut off whenever he dwelled on that servant.

Pale imitations, that was all he was capable of. How could a copy ever surpass the original? Hell, the template he was working off of was the product of another forger's work. A forger of forgery, that was what he was. A faker like Servant Caster stood no chance against Heroic Spirits. This was an undeniable fact. He had no real noble phantasm, he had no skill in magecraft, he couldn't forge a real territory to strengthen himself, and he had estranged himself from his master so he couldn't use the command mantras to compensate for his weakness.

But he was unaware of loss. Even with all of the odds stacked against him he would still venture onward. But he wouldn't do it half cocked. He knew better. Life's hard lessons had taught him that discretion was the better part of valor. As he was he stood no chance against even a weakling like Assassin. Caster would have to defeat his own weakness before he could even think about taking on other servants.

In order to do that, he needed to rest. Find someplace out-of-the-way to recuperate before the grail war started in earnest. The middle of Shinto was not such a place.

Although... Servant Caster found a certain serenity emanating from the home he was perched on top of. This house felt like... it felt like the ******** where he had lived with *****. There was no way he had been here before. He associated this location with uneasiness and spiritual death; with fire and corpses. Why did he feel such gentle warmth and acceptance then?

He needed to investigate. There was something odd about this house. Now that he was thinking about it, why had he chosen this as a place to rest after the command seal? Going to someplace familiar like the park had made sense, but why this specific house?

He dropped down from his perch and took in the yard. There was an old storehouse that seemed rarely used, though it was clear someone had forced their way in recently. There were also the trappings of youth scattered about. A small playground set, some assorted toys, a sandbox. All the indicators of a middle class family spoiling their children. The house was modern. It had a very western design principle while still having an eastern flair. The siding was vinyl. The walls made of wood and sheet rock. Caster knew that he didn't belong in this type of residence. The only home he had never known was a traditional Japanese estate. He couldn't be comfortable here. So why did it feel so right?

Further investigation was halted. He could sense someone in the house. That someone was coming outside. He was in spirit form, so he needn't worry about being spotted. A boy appeared at the back entrance. Red hair, eyes a golden brown. A simple green hoody and jeans. The boy scratched his head and peered across the yard, as if expecting something to be there. He paused when he glanced where caster was. Their eyes locked.

Caster's entire world crumbled apart.

This boy could see him. How could this boy see him? Why was this boy so familiar? Why should this boy not exist? Why was this boy? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

The boy, totally headless of the state of the man before him began to approach Caster. A small smile on his face.

Caster could feel a distortion in his soul. It both resonated and repelled the existence in the doorway. They were the same. They were totally different. His body was made of swords. This boy was made of flesh and blood. The existence of one was mutually exclusive with the existence of the other. For one to be born the other must die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die.

"Mister, are you all right? You look like the pictures of big brother Unskee... are you him?"

The boy was not **** ****. His corpse would become ***** ****. He would burn away. His family would burn before his eyes. His body would burn. Everyone he knew would burn His house would burn. His neighborhood would burn. His world would burn. He would burn. Burn. Burn. Burn. Burn. Burn.

The boy reached Caster. Like a moth drawn to a flame he gently reached out to take a grasp of this strange yet familiar man. Sympathy was written all over his face as he caught on to Caster's suffering. "Mister, are you all right?" The boy made contact.

Caster's brain exploded.

He had felt this way before. When he accepted the penalty. When he had released **********. When he had killed ****. When ****. *********

He was losing himself even more than he had already. What little he had regained since his second life began started to slip away. There was one memory he knew he could never let go of. That nameless girl's smile. Even if he forgot how to move his legs he would have to hold onto that memory. He held it with all of his might. And it was agony.

The boy wasn't in any better shape. His face was tense with confused pain. It was as if his third arm had just been broken and his second liver failed.

His mind was flashing with images from two lives that weren't his own. But they were.

His body was attempting to emulate something it couldn't be. But it would.

Activation of magic circuits succeeded, all twenty-seven accounted for.

Inheritance of battle technique failed, Unlimited Blade Works not found.

Inheritance of experience failed, Unlimited Blade works not found.

Inheritance of physical strength failed, vessel inadequate.

Inheritance of armory failed, Unlimited Blade Works not found.

Unlimited Blade Works not found.

Not found.

Not found.

Not found.

Soul incompatible with Unlimited Blade Works, attempting to synchronize.

The boy toppled backward, totally overwhelmed. His mind would irreparably break soon. Blades would begin to impale him from the inside out as his soul failed to reject the alien concept. Steel invaded the boy on two fronts, his body and his mind. He would not be able to resist both. His death was an inevitable result of Caster's existence.

Caster had to leave. He had to. If he stayed longer the boy would die. He would kill an innocent child by his mere existence. This couldn't be. It couldn't. The boy had already suffered immensely because of Caster. He may never recover. Caster couldn't help him. The only way that boy could be saved now is with Caster's flight.

So he fled. Rapidly. His spiritual body was too slow. He materialized to increase his speed. Still too slow. He needed to become faster. The fastest person he had ever seen. Blue armor. A fierce grin. A red spear. That man would be fast enough to save the boy. He needed to become that fast. He projected Gae Bolg.

It was enough. His body emulated the speed of the spear's true wielder. The spear wouldn't allow anything less. He moved so fast he was a blur. Those he passed would just assume he was a trick of the light. He could feel the connection between himself and the child weaken and then totally break. He just hoped the boy would survive. He had let too many innocents die on his behalf already. Another life lost would be intolerable.

Caster needed time to rest now; he was running on E before, but now his tank was totally empty. Finding a proper place to rest and recuperate could wait until after a nap. Finding a dark alley where an enemy servant or magus would be unlikely to find him, Servant Caster promptly collapsed into an exhausted heap, faded into spirit form, and lost consciousness for the second time that day.

Break

He was dreaming. There was smoke and fire. There was heat and death. And there was a boy. And he was fleeing. The observer knew this. The boy was fleeing. But what was he fleeing from?

There were bodies. Some were burnt to a crisp and only the skeleton indicated that it had once been a human being. Others seemed barely charred, as if the flames had a grudge against the person and wanted to watch them suffer and took them slowly. But the boy ignored the bodies. They weren't important.

There were the dying. Their labored last breaths. Their outstretched hands. Clawing and grabbing. None of them wanted to die alone. None of them wanted others to experience their pain. Some of them begged and pleaded with the boy. Asking him to stop, asking him to hold their hand as they passed. Some tried to stop him, and have him share their fate. The boy ignored the dying. Their suffering wasn't important.

Conspicuously absent were the saved. The fire had seen to that. Everyone caught in the blaze knew on some level that the fire hated them. It didn't make sense. Fire was an elemental force of nature. It burned indiscriminately. Man, beast, home, garbage heap, it made no differentiation. This flame was different. When it attacked the body it didn't do so with the greed of fire. It would take root and fester, like an infectious disease. And it killed the victim in much the same way; slowly, agonizingly. There was no purity in this flame.

It would attack the people and then burn the house around them. As if taunting them, it would immobilize them and then force them to watch. Holding off on killing them until they could witness their whole world burning around them. It even seemed to order deaths to maximize suffering. Mothers would watch their children burn. Husbands bore witness to their wives' demise. The more sacred the connection, the more the flames danced as they severed it. The fire licked at the boy as he walked by, promising him sweet release if only he would stop moving. The malice of the flames wasn't important.

What could drive an otherwise normal boy to become so terribly inhumane? The boy actually had caught on fire several times. He casually batted it out as if swatting a fly never taking his eyes off the path before him. He had to keep moving. One foot in front of the other. Left. Right. Left. Right. Grown men withered and turned to ash before these flames, every other child had long since given in. But this one boy kept walking. What was so damn important that it would keep the half dead child on his feet?

A brief flash provided all the answer that the observer needed. The event was occurring at night. Somehow, that was an undeniable truth. Despite this, there was a sun illuminating the entire scene. But it wasn't the bright sun that warms the day and scares away the dark. This was a dark sun. It froze the night and spurned the light. This was death. This was hatred. By even being cognizant of its existence, a simple fact was planted into the mind of beholder.

The starting penalty was five.

In the face of such a horrible existence and the demonic flames it spewed forth there were only two options. Allowing the body to burn and die, or allowing the soul to burn and flee. Most chose the former, it was less painful and promised the same end result. Only the boy had chosen the latter. If there was anything left of his mind he may have come to regret that choice.

The boy's strength eventually petered out. He collapsed. He was saved. There was a man whose happiness could defy description. None of that mattered. The observer couldn't care less. It had found something in this dream scape, an answer that begged for a question. The observer had asked that question for a long time.

Ryuunosuke gently awoke. A nap after a kill was always restful, and with the day he had been having, who could blame him for needing a rest?

That dream. It was something he was desperately trying to hold on to. It had been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Every single body he had seen had been a piece of art. Every burn was like a master stroke. But none of it was wasted. He thought he had an inkling of what his chosen medium could achieve when brought to it's limits. But that dream. That dream had shown him otherwise. He wasn't even close. Whatever that... thing was, it was his ideal.

And the joy! The way the flames danced as they consumed a mother and her unborn son! The way the smoke seemed to jump down a victims throat to burn their lungs before the flames could consume their body! The whole scene was the picture of a being who loved what they did, and were damn good at it.

That was what he was looking for. Whatever that thing had been; it was the pinnacle of Ryuunosuke's path in life. This was what he had always dreamed of achieving. Every single death had been personal. A piece of art. Distinguished from every other life extinguished. That entire scene had been painted with that pure red.

But the scale! There were so many. Hundreds of them. Every last one treated with more affection and care than the victims probably received their entire lives. It was perfect. Utterly perfect. He had thought that killings on such a grand scale were pointless. But they way these killings were done... it undermined that belief.

He knew on a fundamental level that what he saw couldn't be real. It had never happened. He had recognized the area, though mostly a charred wreck there were a couple of familiar landmarks. It had been the area he grew up in. He had recognized some of the people as they pleaded and begged. And he had recognized the boy from a small glimpse in a mirror he had in the dream.

He had only ever seen the boy twice. Once as an ultrasound, not really good for identification five years later. The other was a stolen glance while breaking into his family's storehouse. He had burned the boy's appearance into his memory. What type of big brother didn't know what his little brother looked like?

All of those little things contributed to a feeling that it wasn't truly a dream.

It was a vision of what could be.

He had always believed in the supernatural, and his earlier experiences had only cemented those beliefs. The fact that he had a vision the afternoon after summoning the beast did not seem coincidental. Maybe it was a message? Maybe the demon was testing him, and if he succeeded he would be rewarded with the ability to bring his dream to it's utmost conclusion?

That idea had one little hang-up that he just couldn't ignore. The feeling of that sun. It wasn't doing it out of love, or joy. It wasn't doing it out of interest or boredom. It was malice. Pure malice. Every single one of those murders had more care put into them than Ryuunosuke had put into all of his murders combined. And it did it because of how much it hated them.

Ryuunosuke wasn't sure how to feel about that. It wasn't exactly the anti-thesis of his theory of murder; superficially it was the same. They both maximized the experience of death. But the motivation was all wrong! Ryuunosuke did it out of love. Love of God, love of man, love of beauty, love of art. Those were what drove him. And yet, he had come up short compared to what he had seen.

Somehow that hatred had completely surpassed him. Ryuunosuke didn't understand. His love and dedication was completely trumped by something so vulgar. He both yearned for and spurned what that scene promised.

Maybe... maybe that's why the demon had seemed so disappointed in him. He wasn't ready for what the demon could have offered. He had to prove himself worthy! His way wasn't wrong. He would show the demon. He had to do something big. Something grand. Something that could compare to that dream, but done out of love of his fellow-man, not hatred!

There was... something. In that book. A ritual. He had ignored it at first, too big, too flashy. It just seemed so impersonal that he feared it would take all the fun out of death. But after what he'd seen... it might actually be what he's looking for.

He would need five sacrifices.

Child sacrifices.

It was a shame. He had the first sacrifice in his grasp earlier. He had even recovered the boy after the demon had spoiled the planned festivities. But he had already... taken care of the kid. That didn't matter too much. He would gather more children. Sure there was a shortage of the little ones recently, but they were still a dime a dozen in the suburbs.

Those five children would prove no real problem to gather. But Ryuunosuke did not want to proceed too quickly. He needed to find only the perfect specimens for this. He had taken great care when he summoned the demon and that bore great fruit. He would take the same care when selecting his lambs. Affluent, intelligent, and adorable. Resilience would also be key, wouldn't want the kids to die half way through the ceremony now would he? Those would be his criteria. Only the best would do if he were to prove his worth to the demon.

His thoughts turned once again to the little brother he never knew.

"Yeah, big brother is going to show you some cool stuff little Shirou. And your big brother is only gonna ask for one little thing in return. That doesn't seem so unfair, does it?"

His only audience was the fresh corpse that had once been saved by a demon. Unsurprisingly, the dead body had no response to Ryuunosuke's query. Despite the cold reception, Ryuunosuke couldn't help but be satisfied with his plan.

"Now, where to find the other four..."

Author's note:

So this is chapter 2. Ummm, I wasn't very happy with the first dream sequence. I rewrote it about five times. I went with the one I wrote while drunk. Not sure if that was a good idea. Pretty much nothing happened in this chapter; just wanted to establish some stuff and get some time to pass and explore Ryuunosuke a little. Caster was summoned at -222, assassin didn't "die" until -172. That's quite a bit of time. In canon Ryuunosuke and Caster were kidnapping, torturing, and killing kids off camera; I had to establish that this Caster would be recuperating from exhausting himself fighting a command seal and that Ryuunosuke would be... well he would be kidnapping, torturing, and killing kids. Also I wanted to have that weird ass resonance effect thing. In my head the existence of pre-fire Shirou and post-fire Shirou are mutually exclusive. They have fundamentally different souls while still being the same existence. Which is a bit different than the relationship between Shirou and Archer. So I thought it would just you know... kinda break the poor kid. And make Shirou's brain hurt the worst. Or something. Might end up rewriting that bit.

This feels really really long for having two characters perform like 10 actions in total. Could summarize this chapter on the corner of a postage stamp. Brevity is what I should probably aim for in the future. Loli-Taiga beating up grown men might have been too cracky. I have no idea where that idea came from, but I thought it was too fun to drop. Probably shouldn't let my inner retard make decisions.

Next chapter should either take me to, or include the dock scene; one of the "stations of canon" that this choo-choo will be visiting. Will also feature characters that aren't red-heads. Unless I decide to replace every other character with Arihiko. But he dyes his hair, so it wouldn't count.


	3. Chapter Three

Hey, I haven't said this yet so I should. This isn't a thing I own. At all. Someone else does. Possibly Nasu and/or Urobuchi. But one's a mushroom and the other is made of despair. Takeuchi will amount to nothing.

* * *

A dark office situated underground. Throughout the room a multitude of arcane devices and tomes were arranged elegantly, creating an air of refinement and mystery. It was the workshop of a magus. Not just any magus however. This was the workshop of Tokiomi Tohsaka, fifth head of the distinguished Tohsaka lineage, second owner of Fuyuki, and master of Archer in the Fourth Holy Grail War.

Elegance in all things; that was the way of the Tohsaka family. Tokiomi spent every hour of every day attempting to live up to this standard. The cut of his beard, the style of his black hair, the luxurious suits, everything about his person was elegant by design. A perfect gentleman, that was the impression all who met him were left with.

"Kirei, you weren't to contact me until you had accepted the church's protection." Tokiomi spoke into an enchanted quartz gem. His tone was impatient, betraying the relaxed demeanor and decidedly masculine way he was holding the stone.

While using a common stone to communicate may at first glance seem to be an impressive feat of magic, things weren't exactly as they appeared. Tokiomi actually did have a set of gems that resonated with one another and allowed instantaneous communication between the paired stones regardless of distance or outside interference. The set was created by the second head of the Tohsaka family, and had been handed down for generations. This was not that system. Instead this quartz gem was connected to Tokiomi's home telephone by some very basic magecraft.

Tohsaka did not believe it was appropriate for an esteemed magus of an established line to have modern conveniences in his workshop. Yet this modern era demanded that Tokiomi be able to, at the very least, answer the phone on occasion. Being sequestered in the basement for the duration of the war as per his plan, he had to create a method of using his phone without violating the decorum of his workshop. He took the cheapest gemstone he had, in this case a rock his former daughter had given to him the day before she left the family, and made it into the magical version of a common portable phone. It's connection to the phone line was a divine mystery suitable for an esteemed magus, just not a particularly impressive one. He detested the entire contraption, but saw it as a necessity in case his family got caught up in the war or some other emergency cropped up and he absolutely needed to be contacted through mundane means.

"I apologize for this breach of decorum, Tokiomi. But you had wished to be informed when the Servant Caster was summoned." A deep voice belonging to Kirei Kotomine resonated through the crystal.

"Your father contacted me regarding this hours ago as was arranged. You should have known that, Kirei. Was this really worth exposing yourself?" Tokiomi said. He had to remind himself to maintain his elegance. His apprentice was well-versed in the world of subterfuge and conflict and should have known better. Risking their cooperation over something as easily compromised as a mundane communication device...

"In addition," Kirei continued, ignoring his master's rebuke "Assassin saw an unusual man traveling through a residential district in Shinto shortly after. He was holding a red spear and was jumping from rooftop to rooftop and radiating immense amounts of magical energy. He seemed to have come from nowhere and disappeared without a trace. Father already dispatched a team to suppress any witnesses; but as you are the second owner I felt you should be informed immediately about such a blatant display of the supernatural in your territory."

"... you were right to contact me on this, Kirei. Thank you. So, the master of Servant Lancer seems to have no pride as a magus. Hmm." Tokiomi had to ponder this new event. To have such a meaningless breach of conduct so early in the war; it could mean but one thing.

"Lancer showing himself so early is a ploy to keep us off-balance and draw us out. We should hold-off and wait for other masters to respond." Tokiomi paused. "Were you able to track Lancer back to his master's workshop?"

"No. He was moving too fast for Assassin to keep up. By the time another had arrived the trail had gone cold."

"Disappointing. Have you uncovered any leads as to the identity of the final master?"

"Perhaps. While investigating the scene other signs of magecraft were discovered. Assassin traced it to a nondescript residence. The family that lived there had been slaughtered, and a summoning circle was drawn in their blood. The Servant and Master had fled the scene shortly before we arrived." Kotomine explained.

"... so uncouth. It seems that Load El-Melloi is the only worthwhile magus of the whole lot. To think that even the Einzberns would lower themselves so far this time around."

"The scene where Caster was summoned seems to match the description of several recent killings in the area. They all contained failed rituals without a trace of magical energy. I believe the master of Caster and this killer are one and the same. He appears to be a non-magus that summoned his servant by chance."

"He'll be a puppet for Caster then. This could be very unfortunate if left alone. Do what you can to find the pair. I loathe to do it, but quietly removing them may be the best option available to us. We'll proceed as planned tomorrow evening. Please refrain from any further contact until then, Kirei" Tokiomi cut the connection.

He had much to ponder. A mundane serial killer as a participant. The master of Lancer showing a total disregard for the rules of secrecy. The Magus Killer of all people operating on behalf of the Einzbern. His plan to lay in wait and utilize Gilgamesh's overwhelming strength to clean up the rabble was in jeopardy. The elimination of Caster and Lancer were his current priorities.

The grail selecting such a fiend as Caster's master weighed heavily on his mind. He had been focused almost entirely upon the Grail War of late, but tales of the recent string of ritualistic homicides had reached even him. It was no secret that the killer had a preference for women and children, and he felt great comfort knowing his wife and daughters were securely away.

No, that was wrong. He only had one daughter who was safely away from the battlefield. As far as he knew, only Zouken's grandson had been sent out of the city for the war. Tokiomi's familiars had never spotted the young girl being taken away to safety.

Despite having removed her from the family, Tokiomi still deeply loved his daughter Sakura. It was love that drove him to give her to his family's long time allies, the Makiri. If she had stayed a Tohsaka she would never have been able to shine; her older sister was already far too brilliant for that. Tokiomi knew enough about the Matou craft that he thought that Sakura and her Imaginary Numbers would flourish there. Even with that old vampire clinging to life and control of the family so desperately.

He was grateful that the Matou had settled in the western residential district near his estate in Miyama rather than the land they originally planned, where the Kotomine Church now stands. This way if a rambunctious enemy were to assault the Matou residence he could smoothly send his servant to intervene without seeming too overbearing. He could rest easy knowing that both of his legacies would survive the coming conflict.

Besides, he assured himself, what were the odds a participant would pursue his daughters?

* * *

Ryuunosuke Uryuu was not having much luck. He needed to find five sacrificial children for his ritual. He wanted them to be of hearty stock, yet of a background reminiscent of his own. He needed them to be resilient yet privileged. It shouldn't be that hard to find such fine young folk in a city like Fuyuki, yet he had struck out once already.

The first little girl was rich, but she passed out as soon as she saw his art supplies. Large knives, forks, screws, and other medieval instruments stained with the blood of their previous use were too much for her delicate sensibilities. If something as minor as old blood was too much for this little one, she would never appease a nameless horror. Despoiling the innocent was old hat for Ryuunosuke, a child with more mettle was what he desired.

So he disposed of her.

She redeemed herself in Ryuunosuke's eyes with her passing. While she slept he pumped her full of stimulants and anti-coagulants. He then hung her upside down, secured at the waist, legs, and arms. Smelling salts were applied next; when one experiences death it's no fun at all for the killer if they sleep through the whole thing. Then, to the chorus of young Hanako Gotou's screams, he cut her legs off above the knee.

"Heh, more like below the knee. Since you're all upside down." he mused aloud; taunting the poor girl.

Blood seeped down her body; slowly coating her from stump to head in her own vital fluids. Her life would be over in a matter of minutes. This was an inescapable fact, even to one as unseasoned as her.

To her credit she didn't pass out immediately like when she first saw the tools. It might have been the stimulants, it might have been hidden reserves of will power, or it might have been the adrenaline and sheer absurdity of what had become of her. She fought and struggled until she lacked the ability to do so. It didn't matter. She died all the same.

Ryuunosuke had played with this method of death in his head for years. His preference was always for savory kills. Slowly getting his fill of death. This was an execution; he didn't have time for his standard modus operandi. He never attempted it before because it felt like a waste of a perfectly good victim. He couldn't have been happier to be wrong.

It had lasted less time than brushing his teeth. But what it lacked in length it more than compensated in wonder. This was the closest he had ever been to that euphoric first death. The blood painted the body so masterfully. Every heartbeat pushing out more paint to cast a new stroke across the canvas of her body. The steady decline in the girl's fight and protests. How she begged and pleaded. Everything about murder that he loved so much had been condensed down into a bite sized piece.

It wasn't enough. He would press on regardless of discovering the joys of brevity. He needed sacrifices if he was to impress Mr. Demon. Toying with this new experience of death could wait until after.

And so he selected a second child. A boy who attended the same school as Ryuunosuke's little brother. Shinobu Yamamoto would hopefully live up to the personal strength that his name implied. Capturing him had to wait until early morning. Ryuunosuke smoothly took him captive after his parents had left for work yet before the boy left for school.

After having misjudged Gotou's potential, Ryuunosuke wanted to ensure he wouldn't make that mistake again. So he devised a little test. A very simple test, graded on a curve.

"Hey, you shouldn't squirm so much. Bugs don't like sudden movements. And whatever you do, don't scream. I'll kill you for sure if you scream. That wouldn't be very fun. Nope. Nope. Nope. No fun at all."

"Puh-please mister. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to trip Shirou. It was an accident I swear. I'll never do it again. Just, just let me see mommy. PLEASE mister! I'll be good. I.. I promise! PUH-PLEASE!"

"Heh. Nope!" He tossed the boy into the tank. If he screamed or fainted even with the threat of death hanging over him, what use was he? He had gotten the idea for the test from a fuzzy daydream he had; something about a basement full of worms and death. Filling a tank full of creepy crawlies and the assorted remains of Gotou did a pretty good job of recreating that effect. And putting a child in it just somehow felt right to Ryuunosuke.

The boy screamed. The boy passed out. Both within the first ten seconds of being in the tank. Having his face firmly planted in a dead girl's hair was apparently too much for him. Ryuunosuke had never seen anything so pathetic in his life.

"What do you kids do these day that ya think bugs are that creepy? Must be those Pokemans or something." He removed the boy from he tank and placed him on a stolen surgical table. "Jeez little guy, my sister had more guts than you. And that was after I took half of 'em out." He sighed in resignation. "It took forever to get this one too. I guess it can't be helped."

Ryuunosuke's tools were all lined up and ready to go. Smelling salts were all that stood between Ryuunosuke and the only worthwhile quality of the boy in front of him. He eagerly snapped open the capsule.

Torture and death were the only things left to Shinobu Yamamoto.

Across the room on a table crowded with paperwork, two files were open. Details on potential victims prepped for use after he had finished with the boy. The next targets Ryuunosuke planned to pursue came in a matched set. Kotone Nakamura and her good friend. Rin Tohsaka.

* * *

The convergence of leylines that the new town hall was being built over was the weakest of the four. It also was constantly being used by mundane folk, and anything supernatural would not go unnoticed. People came and went throughout the day, with security patrolling the site during the evening. As a place to hide until he was in fighting condition again, Caster could find no better.

He could feel the connection between himself and his master. Between that and the leyline he had been able to rapidly recover his energy and create a substantial reserve. He had rested for a little over a day. He should be ready to enter the war at any time.

And he would. But only after having set a plan and taken care of certain lingering issues. He would need to get the lay of the land, his knowledge of Fuyuki was very obviously not current. He would need to try and locate the other servants and masters and gather as much information on them as he could. He would need to find *****. If he could find her, ***** could be helpful. And he would need to murder his master.

Laying the groundwork for that last bit while accomplishing the first were his tasks for the day. But, he thought to himself, how to proceed? He could follow his connection straight back to his master with little difficulty. Right now, it seemed his master was somewhere across the bridge in Miyama. But how to get there? He could try to act like a normal citizen, perhaps slipping past any overly observant masters or servants. Or he could just use spirit form and hope for the best.

Throwing on a ratty old green cargo jacket and a hat to obscure his more inhuman aspects, Caster decided to go with the first option. Spirit form would be a dead giveaway to any observer. They would have to play close attention to the magical energy he was outputting if he went out masquerading as a worthless pedestrian.

As he walked towards the entrance, Caster dwelled on how he should go about doing his reconnaissance. Staying in Shinto any longer would not be a good choice. The church on the hill. That was where Kotomine had lived. It is a place that should be avoided if possible, even if its former master had perished. The clergy could not be trusted, and staying within their territory could only lead to problems for Caster.

With the bridge to Miyama decided as his immediate destination and having reached the exit Caster stepped into the Sunlight. The sights and sounds of everyday life greeted him in this unfamiliar part of his home town.

Caster tried to ignore it. Flashes of a happy home life assailed him. Things he'd lost. Things he'd gained. Things he never deserved in the first place. If he allowed himself to think too long on these degraded memories he wouldn't accomplish anything.

As he crossed the Mion bridge, Caster looked back on Shinto. Despite having already looked at the changed skyline, seeing it from this familiar perspective really brought home what had changed. It also cemented what had stayed the same. And that was what surprised the servant.

He recognized almost everything. There were a number of familiar buildings missing, and that residential district located where the park should be was chock full of new structures, but he still knew this skyline. There was one notable exception. A lone skyscraper he had never laid eyes on in the middle of the business district. In the city he knew it would have been dwarfed. But here, it reigned supreme.

Denial. That was the only thing keeping Caster from totally losing his mind. The city, the boy, the Heaven's Feel. These all painted a picture.

As he absent mindedly wandered the streets of Miyama a voice, not quite his own but also not alien to him, told him that yes what he desperately was ignoring was the truth.

_Everything you've ever done is meaningless. All those that had burned for you were meaningless. Your sacrifice, meaningless. This is what it means to be ***** ******. Nothing can ever be held; existing to pursue an unreachable goal that isn't even yours. Never understood. Always alone. _

"Aye chump, watch where ya walkin'!"

The voice was silenced when Caster was bumped into by a girl sporting a Homura Academy uniform. Brown hair, a sturdy figure, all topped off with an eerily familiar face. This was a person he should know. No matching name occurred to him as he stood there dumb-founded. Only the image of a drunken cat.

"Neko! Are you trying to get me into another fight today?" a rather imposing looking teen said while he approached the two. He was sporting a Homura uniform, much like his female companion. Also much like his friend, the boy's face was one that Caster knew he should recognize, yet could not place.

"I'm sorry sir, my friend here can be a bit of a handful! I'm sure she meant no offense" the student continued.

"Oi, Rei, that weirdo bumped into me, he should be the one apologizin' not you." Neko said while looking at 'Rei' as if he had two heads.

"It... it was my fault." Caster croaked. He needed to get away. His fragmented memories were piecing themselves together in the presence of these two clowns. He was liable to break right there in the city street if things kept going as they were. He needed to get away. So he did.

"See there Rei, told ya it was the creeps fault. Tiger's bout starts in twenty minutes, let's get a leg on."

"Maybe I should start calling you Otoko like Fuji does. Ow, what'd you hit me for?"

Caster knew when he was. That was the final straw. He just wanted to go home and curl in a ball. It was too much. He had made it all a lie. All of it. The pain of all those others he spurned to save himself. Everything ****, ***, and ***** went through. All those memories. He had spat on them. He was worse than Zouken.

Another name. Not that he cared for the implication.

He found himself in front of the what he knew was his home, the distance having been covered while he was loathing himself.. He could tell, it was a dilapidated husk. The fence alone was indicative of a long period of disuse. A quick leap over the fence, child's play for a servant, and he could see he was not wrong. The grass was a foot long. The house itself looked beaten all to hell. Doors and windows were missing. Most of the wood looked as if termites had come, found the wood inedible, and left in disgust. A real dump. The outhouse was the only part of the building that matched Caster's recollections. But then, it was just four stone walls and a thick wooden door.

He didn't know what to think. He didn't know what to do. He was at some point in the past, prior to his coming to live with *****. In a grail war. He had seen people he had met, so it had to have been... blank. He knew that he had this information. Kotomine made sure of that. But for the life of him he just couldn't access it.

_This was what caused the fire. This was when everyone close to you was hurt. You can stop it._

That ethereal voice. It was clearer now. Yes. Of course. This was a little over 10 years ago. That boy in the yard was him. Someone he never really knew. This was the fourth Holy Grail War, where Kotomine fought, where **** ruthlessly defeated all those who opposed him. This was when **** was orphaned. He knew when he was, and it no longer shook him.

With his back straight for the first time since he was summoned, he headed towards the Western style housing district. He didn't know why, but the ethereal voice and his own gut were urging him to visit a lonely house at the top of a hill.

* * *

It was well past nightfall when Caster reached his destination. An elaborate mansion, probably the most expensive in the whole of Miyama. Elegant in design, but not so ostentatious to attract undue attention. It was the perfect fit for the second owner of such a potent spiritual land.

… Caster had no idea how he knew that the second owner dwelled here. Conflicting memories registered within him, he had both never been here and had visited often. Whichever history was the most true was irrelevant. As it was now, the house was a fortress with the gate barred to him. Barriers, the likes of which he had never felt surrounded the structure. Even a novice such as himself could tell that this was a not a place he could easily tread uninvited.

_The back._

The voice in Caster's head urged him on. If the front door is locked, it never hurts to check the rear. The logic was sound. He circled widely around the house. Surprisingly thick woods were what he found. Making his way through them, he found himself the perfect vantage point for observing the backyard. And what a sight it was.

Two figures were visible. A black figure of the shadow, with a Skull like mask. Unmistakably Assassin. But, as impressive of the servant of cloak and dagger was, the god standing atop the house demanded Caster's undivided attention. For a god he must be.

Average in height, but brilliant in appearance. Even without having those vicious red eyes focused upon him, Caster withered beneath the heat of the man's glare. Brilliant golden armor topped with lustrous golden hair. Facial features that defined the term regal. His presence alone was overwhelming. But he wasn't the only intimidating specter above the mansion.

A field of legendary blades being unleashed upon the dark servant. Their number didn't matter, a dozen would be enough to destroy a modern army and their number far exceeded that. Peerless craftsmanship. The grandest mysteries. Unrivaled power. Each one held a story more fantastic than Caster's own. The golden god treated them as common arrows.

Assassin was dead the moment Archer, for it could be no other servant, laid eyes upon him. As long as that monster was guarding the house Caster would be getting no answers. The various weapons captivated his attention, but they alone wouldn't be enough to keep the servant in such a killing field. His need to contact... someone would have to wait for another day.

With how quickly Assassin perished, Caster wouldn't pass undetected much longer. A hasty retreat to the defunct estate was in order. He got clear of the Tohsaka residence without any problems and was half way down the hill in a flash.

He paused and looked back. Not at the home he had just failed to invade. Another house. Where as the house on the peak of the hill was grand and dominated, this one was more subdued. Yet all the more intimidating for it. The land around it seemed rich in both life and death, seeming more akin to a swamp than a yard.

He knew this place was important, but this evening was not the time to investigate. Not with that golden monster within spitting distance. He burned the familiar house into his mind and continued on. Tomorrow would be a new day and a new opportunity to get answers.

* * *

Author's Note:

So this is a new chapter. As it turns out, joining the navy and holidays are wicked time consuming so this chapter took a while to get done. Canon events are still mostly on rails, but I hinted at two major deviations that are going to occur soon. I'm not sure how I did with characterizing pre-gil Kotomine and Tokiomi. The Ryuunosuke scene is weirdly written, I revised it a couple times but couldn't get it any better than the original. Thanks for all the reviews, follows and favorites. It warms my cockles that people think this isn't awful. Well, that's basically it, so as a stuffed tiger once said TTFN, ta-ta for now!


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